


Getting Away From It All

by Telaryn



Series: The Hero and The Bad Boy [18]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Beach Sex, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, Romance, Schmoop, Spooning, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the events of Iron Man 3, Clint and Quinn steal time for a real romantic getaway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Away From It All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kastron (decidueye)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/gifts).



_”I understand why you have so much trouble with the idea Clint, but you are allowed to be happy.”_

Memory of something Quinn had told him months earlier made Clint smile. He was pretty sure that here and now in one of the most comfortable beds he’d even enjoyed, a warm breeze and ocean sounds drifting in through the open windows and the man he loved sleeping in his arms, he was at least getting close to allowing himself to be happy.

 _We needed this,_ he thought, lightly tracing the curve of Quinn’s bicep with his fingertips. Their respective jobs hadn’t been kind to them recently – culminating in a trip to Tennessee to help Quinn’s boss and Clint’s teammate Tony Stark. For a change, Clint had come home from that trip more or less in one piece. Quinn, on the other hand, was still sporting a soft cast on his right foot and some truly spectacular bruising on the left side of his face six weeks after the fact; remnants of what had originally been a snapped cheekbone.

Clint had suggested the idea of a vacation in passing, almost as a joke. Quinn, on the other hand, had used his downtime to research an island resort with private beaches and little to no way to contact the outside world. “Two weeks,” he said, spreading the brochures out for Clint to examine. “I’m not going to be cleared to return to work for another eight, and if we wait until the bandages come off…”

“Wish I could have been there,” Clint murmured, brushing the edge of the bruising with his knuckles. He’d been working the outside of the bar during the fight, trying to contain the chaos. They’d trusted Quinn to be able to back Tony up on the inside, figuring anyone looking to interfere would be well within his ability to handle. _Turns out, not so much,_ he thought, his arms tightening reflexively about his lover.

“You’re thinking really loudly back there,” Quinn grumbled. “Stop it.”

Smiling, Clint lightly bit the back of Quinn’s neck. “Just thinking about how cute you are when you sleep,” he said.

Twisting in his arms, Quinn opened his eyes and glared at him. “This is why I’m usually the one holding you.”  
Ducking his head, Clint leaned in and kissed him. Quinn’s lips parted under the gentle pressure, deepening an innocent expression of affection into something exponentially more intense. Hands skimmed the length of his spine, making Clint shiver as Quinn pulled him even closer.

Bedclothes shifted as their bodies moved together; Clint quickly lost himself in the feel of the man in his arms, and all the little touches and caresses Quinn brought into play in order to drive him to distraction.

With a small grunt of effort, Quinn rolled them so that he was half-crouched over the archer. “I think I want to hear you beg this morning,” he said, eyes shining with a dark light as he gripped Clint’s wrists and pinned him to the mattress. Bending down, he nipped sharply at the soft skin over Clint’s pulse, making him cry out.

“Give…give me your best shot…” Clint breathed. Words trailed off into another gasp of pleasure as Quinn pressed his hips downward, giving Clint a taste of the friction his body was suddenly craving.

Quinn was as good as his promise. He liked taking charge in bed almost as much as Clint enjoyed giving it to him, and this morning he used that dynamic to his full advantage. Clint was achingly hard in minutes, but despite indisputable evidence that Quinn was in a similar state, the ex-mercenary was determined to take things slow. Clint tried to hold out, from pure stubbornness if nothing else, but they knew each other’s bodies too well at this point and Quinn was an expert at keeping him balanced on a knife’s edge of pleasure.

After a seeming eternity, Clint’s control finally shattered. Curses alternated with some pretty spectacular begging for his lover to take pity on him – and Quinn finally did, warm hand lightly gripping Clint’s shaft and stroking him to release.

They dozed again for a while, Quinn spooned around Clint this time. It was the way they typically slept, but Quinn’s recovery had been a hard one this time. Even if he had trouble saying it, Clint knew Quinn had appreciated being held for a change as he slept.  
**********************  
Quinn had more than a few doubts while planning the trip. While Clint had been the first to raise the subject of a vacation, you didn’t have to be fluent in Barton-speak to know that only a fool took everything Clint said absolutely at face value.

And an almost stereotypical romantic getaway wasn’t anything that fit in the parameters of their relationship as it stood. But the more he rolled the idea around in his mind, the more Quinn realized that he wanted to do it. More than that – he needed to be alone with Clint, as free from their respective issues and the chaos that seemed to plague their lives as it was possible to get.

So he’d taken a chance and made the arrangements – presenting Clint with the idea only after everything was in place. To his relief, Clint had not only been entirely on board, he’d reacted with an enthusiasm that suggested Quinn hadn’t been the only one thinking they needed a break.

In the end, Quinn’s vanity was the one thing that kept them from leaving immediately. He’d made his peace with his foot still being in a cast for the trip, but he refused to budge until the bandages came off his face. “I look pathetic,” he’d argued. “If we’re really going to do this, I’d like as much of my dignity back as I can get before we go.”

So they’d waited. And even though Quinn had winced visibly seeing the state of his cheek underneath all that gauze, Clint had manfully lied and told him the mottled colors made him look like even more of a bad-ass. It had been enough to salve Quinn’s still-wounded pride, and they were winging their way to the island resort within twenty-four hours.

There were no easy ways to tell time in the bungalow they’d rented, but Quinn’s own internal clock told him it was a little past noon when he finally woke up again after their morning love-making. He was also alone in the bed, with no sign of Clint except the open door leading to their private stretch of sand.

Deciding after some deliberation that he was finally ready to get up, Quinn pushed himself out of bed, tied his hair back, and slipped on the shorts he’d abandoned the night before. He found Clint on the beach, standing almost at the shoreline – staring up into the sky as if transfixed. Gulls wheeled and screamed overhead, and this close to the water the ocean breeze was playfully combing his spikey hair into an even more unruly mess than usual.

The scene was so unexpectedly beautiful that Quinn felt an ache in his chest. Much as he loved Clint, the archer was one of those people that went through life at least partly on guard at all times. Even when he knew he was safe, a part of him was always looking for the next attack, the next disaster.

But this…this _was_ Clint – unfettered by the past, the pain, and all the people throughout his life he’d tried to trust only to have it end in tragedy. Quinn didn’t know if the realization would ever make sense out of the confines of his own brain, but he knew now with a bone-deep certainty that he’d only begun to scratch the surface of the man he’d taken into his life and into his heart.  
*********************  
Intellectually Clint had always understood places like this existed in the world. They’d never been for the likes of him. He’d always been too poor, too busy, too focused to just walk away from his life; go someplace where he could just _breathe_.

_Now though…_

He didn’t know which was pulling at him more, the sky or the ocean – but he’d never felt such a strong sense of freedom in his life. It was one of those perfect moments he’d known all too rarely in his life. He was exactly where he was supposed to be and everything just…fit.

"You're laughing at me," he said. He’d known Quinn was there from the moment he’d left the bungalow, but the idea of taking his eyes off the impossibly blue sky arching over them was physically painful.

He felt Quinn slip in behind him, strong arms going around his waist and pulling him in close. "You look like you're ready to take flight," he murmured, nuzzling the sensitive spot just under the curve of Clint’s jaw.

Humming with pleasure, Clint relaxed into his lover's embrace. "It's so open, so free – it’s..."

Quinn chuckled softly; the sound vibrated through Clint's body, making him wonder exactly _how_ private this beach was. "You talk like you've never been to the beach before."

"Do you even know how much of a difference there is between Coney Island and this place?" Clint asked, turning in Quinn's arms until they were facing each other. "I still can't believe you put this all together!”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Quinn countered, leaning in and kissing him. When he started to pull away, Clint hooked a hand behind his neck and held him still – kissing him back hungrily.

“Love you so much,” Clint whispered, when they finally came up for air. Reaching up, he brushed his fingers across the livid bruise staining Quinn’s cheek. “I should have had your back for this.”

Quinn wrapped his hand around Clint’s and turned to press a kiss against his palm. “Stop. It all worked out – one of the few times I’m grateful Fury had somebody on the scene, even if it was unofficial.” Clint recalled the agent Quinn had said neutralized a chemically enhanced assassin long enough to drag him clear of the fray.

The agent who’d clued Clint in as to what type of threat they were facing using a type of short-hand he’d never thought to run into again. “I wish I’d gotten to meet him – thank him,” he added hastily, kissing Quinn lightly again. “He had to have been part of that cluster-fuck in 2004; that’s the only way he could have known it was the way to tell me what we were fighting.”

“He looked on the old side for a field agent,” Quinn said. “Not too old for recon work, but definitely too old for something like what you made Syria out to be.” He looked for a second as though he was remembering something. “Before he left me, he wasn’t looking too good; like he’d pushed himself too hard fighting off that one guy.”

Clint shivered, as though somebody had just walked across his grave. _Older…recovering from an injury…_ Even though he couldn’t stop the small spark of irrational hope that flared inside his chest, he shoved the idea resolutely out of his mind. It was impossible, and even entertaining the idea for a moment was going to throw off the rhythm of an absolutely perfect day.

“How do you feel about a swim before lunch?” he asked, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Quinn’s shorts and tugging him towards the shoreline.

The heat in Quinn’s eyes drove away any and all thoughts of mysterious older SHIELD agents – drove away thoughts of anything in the world but the man in front of him. “I think I’d prefer to take you back to bed for a couple of hours, if that’s all right with you?”

Clint’s grin widened. “I meant to ask you before – just how private is this beach anyway?” He yelped as Quinn stepped in and swept his legs neatly out from underneath him.

“Private enough,” his lover answered, dropping to his knees beside Clint. “I don’t want to hear any complaints about where the sand ends up though.” Before Clint could say anything in response, Quinn stretched out next to him and kissed him for all he was worth.


End file.
